


Once upon a time

by Helblindi



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Tangled (2010)
Genre: F/M, M/M, No Smut, and Jehan would get upset, because les Amis would probably throw things at him, if there is it won't be in Courf's story, nobody likes to see Jehan upset, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helblindi/pseuds/Helblindi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a blackout, Courfeyrac finds out certain housemates have never seen his favourite Disney film, so decides to tell them the story. Pity he doesn't seem to know the story either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which there are cold fingers and a story is told

They're halfway through the Disney marathon when it happens. One minute, the screen is full of light and song ("The lanterns are for you Rapunzel," Courfeyrac wailed while Jehan stroked his curls sympathetically) and then the room was plunged into sudden blackness. 

Courfeyrac stared at the dark television for a moment while the house creaked around them. "What the fuck?" Untangling himself from the bed sheets, he staggered over to the door and peered out into the equally dark hallway. 

Behind him, Jehan darted over to the window and pressed his face to the glass, trying to see past the flurries of snow that had been falling all day. "I can't see any other lights. Do you think the powers out all over the city?"

Courfeyrac shrugged. "At least it's not the goddamn fuses. Enjolras would have a shit fit if they blew again." Jehan chuckled and slowly made his way across the room. Groping for a few seconds, he finally found a candle and a box of matches. With a small hiss, the room was bathed in light again, and the two grinned at each other.

"Time to raid 'Ponine's candle collection?"

Jehan chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to his boyfriends lips. "You read my mind love." 

Wrapping themselves up against the chill that was creeping through the house, they stumbled down to the kitchen and began the search for the tea lights their housemate had squirrelled away. Victoriously holding their treasures in increasingly frozen fingers, Jehan made to go back upstairs, but ended up walking into a decidedly solid person. Jehan squeaked in surprise, and the figure swore. 

"Fucking hell Jehan! You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Jehan laughed, pressing a hand to his racing heart. "I'm so sorry Grantaire! I can't see a thing in here. Were you trying to get some candles too?"

Grantaire shook his head. "Nope. I'm here to liberate a bottle of vodka. Maybe if I down it, I'll forget how goddamn cold it is in here." 

Courfeyrac had been silent as he picked up the candles Jehan had dropped when he collided with their resident cynic, but suddenly perked up as he was struck with a totally awesome idea.

"Guys, I've got a totally awesome idea!"

Grantaire snorted and reached around him to pluck a bottle off the counter. "No. The last time I heard that phrase, I woke up in a jail cell with a lifelong ban from Starbucks."

Courfeyrac whined. "Oh come on R! You know that was just as much Enjolras' fault. He was the one that started the riot over the fair trade coffee. Besides," his voice turned pleading. "All I was going to suggest is since we're all so cold, why not build a blanket fort in the living room! It'll be warmer than standing round here and freezing our balls off in the kitchen."

Grantaire froze at his words, before placing his hands on Courfeyrac's shoulders and fixing him with a very serious look that was sadly wasted in the pitch blackness of the kitchen. "You had me at blanket fort."

Courfeyrac whooped, and hurried off into the living room to start lighting the candles. Jehan and Grantaire barrelled their way up the stairs to collect as many blankets and duvets as they could lay their hands on. The pounding of feet on the stairs enticed several other residents of the house to leave their rooms, the first being Eponine and Gavroche. 

The sight that greeted them as they entered the living room was one of absolute chaos. The couches had been pushed together to create walls, and the blankets had been strategically draped together to form a roof. Grantaire was frowning at their meagre building. Jehan noticed the two newcomers first, and waved cheerfully. "Hi Ep! We're trying to make a blanket fort but we ran out of blankets. Want to lend a hand?" 

She stared at them blankly for a moment, before exchanging a glance with her brother. "Yeah, why not. Gav, you go get the stuff from our room and I'll help these morons." 

And so it continued- people slinking into the living room bearing offerings of sheets and pillows until they had a fort large enough to fit ten adults and a small child. Outside, candles flickered inside jam jars, and everybody ignored Joly's lecture on the statistics of house fires and the probability of choking to death on smoke and oh god this is such a bad idea let me out of here Bahorel. Marius and Cosette were curled up together on cushions while Eponine wrestled Gavroche into another jumper. Bossuet had been placed in the very centre of the fort where he was safe from causing anything to collapse, with Feuilly consoling him and passing out extra blankets. Courfeyrac watched as the vodka bottle made another round, and pulled Jehan closer. "Admit it- I have awesome ideas. I am the king of good ideas."

Jehan laughed. "Of course you are love. But I can't help but wonder what our dear leader will say when he sees how we've left the living room."

As if summoned by the mere mention of his title, the scraping of a key in the front door drifted through the folds of material, and everyone froze. The sound of steps echoed from the hall, before pausing in the doorway. There was a heavy silence, before Combeferre's perplexed voice rang out.

"I'm not sure I want to know."

Everyone peered through the entrance of the fort to eye Enjolras and Combeferre who were staring with mixed expressions of puzzlement and horror at the state of the living room. Courfeyrac decided to take pity on them.

"The power went out so we made a blanket fort. Come join!"

Enjolras and Combeferre stared at them for a long minute, before shrugging off their coats and crawling through the small entrance. Enjolras collapsed next to Grantaire, while Combeferre squashed himself next to Eponine and Gavroche. 

Enjolras ignored Grantaire as he was enveloped in another duvet, and instead raised an incredulous eyebrow at Courfeyrac. "Really? A blanket fort? I thought we outgrew these when we turned seven."  


Courfeyrac snorted. " _You_ might have, but some of us are never too old for fun. Besides- the power cut happened in the middle of our Disney marathon and there wasn't anything better to do."

Cosette perked up at his words. "Disney marathon? Which one were you watching?"

"Tangled- it was the lantern scene," Courfeyrac pouted. 

Cosettes hands fluttered to her mouth. "Oh, but that's the best scene! Right guys?" Everyone else shuffled slightly, and avoided looking her in the eyes. Cosette's face fell. "You've never seen it? Any of you?" 

There was a reluctant shaking of heads. Courfeyrac stared around with blatant betrayal in his eyes. "You're all dead to me. Apart from you Cosette you blessed child."

Jehan pressed a hand to his arm. "Why not just tell them the story? Like you said before, we've got nothing better to do."

Cosettes face lit up, and every single person knew that they were going to sit through Courfeyrac's rambling. Nobody liked seeing Cosette upset. It was like kicking a puppy. 

"You know, we could just watch it on a laptop or something," Grantaire pointed out. Enjolras yanked him down, and slapped a hand over his mouth.

"The sooner he starts the sooner he finishes Grantaire."

Grantaire nodded thoughtfully. "Of course you're right Apollo. Alright, let's get this over with."

"Shhhhh Courf's talking now. Anyway, it's all about romance, greed, redemption, trust me you guys are going to love it. And it all starts, with the sun..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonjour mon petit choux! This is my first forray into Les Mis fanfiction, so leave me a message. Continue? Give up and never darken our fandom again? Let me know!


	2. In which there is backstory and questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a miracle that Courfeyrac hasn't murdered his friends yet, and the dreaded exposition is finally gotten out the way. There's no way that this can get worse. No siree!

"It all started with the sun. Once, a long long time ago, a single drop of sunlight fell to earth. It landed near a village, and from that drop of sunlight grew a golden flower."

Combeferre snorted. "So I see we've already waved goodbye to normality."

"Shhhhh!"

"Thanks Gav. Anyway, this flower wasn't normal like the ones out in the garden- this was a magic flower. When you sang to it, it could heal sick and wounded people. Like, this was a pretty awesome plant guys."

Joly sniffed. "That doesn't sound very sanitary. And that's not even going into possible side effects from the magic."

Grantaire rubbed his temples. "I'm far to sober to sit here and debate the theoretical side effects of a magic weed with the worlds biggest hypochondriac." He made a grab for the bottle in Eponine's hands, but found it jerked away by Enjolras who tossed it over to Feuilly. Grantaire snorted, and reached behind a cushion to produce another bottle. "Nice try Enjy."

Courfeyrac scowled, but his attention was caught by Gavroche poking him in the side. "What happened to the flower?"

"Well, at least someone's interested in my story. Before the powers of the magic flower could be fully shared amongst the people, it was found by a greedy and wicked woman. She stole the flower away from the village and hid it deep in the forest and thats why she's the bad guy. Centuries passed, and the woman used the flower to stay young and... well, young. Let's just say she wouldn't be winning beauty contests any time soon, you know what I mean? Anyway, time passed and a kingdom grew out of the little village at the edge of the forest. This place was great, life was easy and everyone loved the king and queen." 

Enjolras opened his mouth, undoubtedly planning to launch into a speech against the monarchy and their repression of the people. Courfeyrac cut him off with a sharp hand gesture. "No shut up Enjolras I'm telling the goddamn story. Anyway, when the queen found out she was pregnant the kingdom celebrated for weeks. But then she got sick. Like, really sick.

"The king ordered out boats and search parties and stuff desperately trying to find something to save his wife and child. Things were looking bad, up until someone had the bright idea of looking in the forest. Because the witch got lazy you see, and after hiding away for so long she thought everybody had forgotten the magic golden flower. Well, that was a big mistake."

Gavroche stared at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Because someone found it of course! A poor baker. He didn't know what it was, but hey it was magic and glowy, so he uprooted the flower and took it back to the city. The flower was made into a medicine for the queen, and it worked! Hurray!" Cosette cheered, and out of the corner of his eye Courfeyrac saw Gavroche breathe a sigh of relief.

"The queen gave birth to a healthy baby boy who was born with a full head of blond hair that grew like crazy, and to celebrate the king and queen sent a lantern into the sky."

Beside Courfeyrac, Jehan was mouthing the word 'boy' to himself and looking very confused, while a very similar expression crossed Gavroche's face. "Lantern? Like a glass one?"

Eponine laughed. "Nah- like the Chinese ones that everyone sets off on bonfire night, that Courf mistook for a UFO last year."

Courfeyrac cleared his throat, eager to get off that subject. "One- screw you Ep. We agreed never to talk about that. And two- the story's nowhere near finished, so shut up. Anyway... the witch managed to find out what had happened to the flower, and one night while the king and queen were sleeping, she managed to sneak into the castle. When she saw the prince's hair, she decided to try a crazy idea and sang the song she used to sing to the flower."

Courfeyrac paused for dramatic effect, and everyone leaned slightly forward in anticipation. Courfeyrac marvelled at how they were properly listening to him now. Unfortunately, he marvelled for a tad too long. "... And?" Enjolras prompted.

"Oh! Sorry. The kids hair started to glow, and the evil witch decided to cut off some of it to replace her flower. Which is actually a really creepy thing to do. But when she cut off a lock of hair, it stopped glowing and turned red. Not like, fire truck red but ginger. Which would have been the prince's normal hair colour if the flower magic hadn't rooted itself-"

"Get on with it!" Everyone chorused, and Courfeyrac sighed. 

"You people have no appreciation for atmosphere. Whatever. So the king and queen woke up in time to see the witch jumping out the window with their baby. They roused the entire castle, but by that time the witch had hightailed it out of the city. While everyone in the kingdom searched everywhere for the prince, the witch had hidden him even deeper into the forest than the flower had been. She built this ridiculously huge tower without any doors, and they lived right at the top so nobody could get in or out. And the prince grew up thinking that the witch was his mother which is messed up on so many levels.

"The prince grew up, totally unaware that he was actually a prince. The only time he ever interacted with anything outside his tower was the night of his birthday. Back in the city, the king and queen set off a ridiculously large number of lanterns to remember their kidnapped son, _completely_ unaware that he would stay up to watch them like, every single year. It's touching really." Courfeyrac mimed wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

He made to carry on, but Grantaire spoke before he could. "Last interruption, I swear. How long is this story going to be? Because I'll probably need a refill sometime soon and I'm not being demonised for interrupting Storytime." 

Enjolras frowned at him. "Surely you can go an hour without alcohol Grantaire."

"Of course I can Apollo. I just don't want to." 

"Actually, I'm with Grantaire," Jehan said placidly cutting off the argument in the making. Everyone turned to stare at him. "It's a rather long story, and I don't think people are going to want to keep going in and out of the fort to get drinks. All the jostling might make the entire thing collapse around our ears. I'll go. Courf?" Jehan gave his boyfriend a 'We Need To Talk' look.

"Alright duckies, we'll be back in a minute." Crawling out, Courfeyrac stopped to pull Jehan out of the blankets, before ambling over to the kitchen. Jehan made sure nobody followed them in, before leaning close and speaking in a low voice.

"Not that you don't tell a wonderful story Courf, but maybe you should stick to the Disney version? Because I'm pretty sure I can see where this is going and I won't stop them pelting you with cushions when they realise you've swapped the characters."

"Relax! It'll just make them want to know what happens. I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing." Jehan pulled away, still doubtful. Making their way back into the fort, they passed out glasses and stuck the vodka and juice as far away from both Bossuet and Grantaire as possible. 

"So where was I? Oh right. The real story begins nearly eighteen years afterwards. Or to be more exact, seventeen years and nine months, but who's counting?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go!The exposition's out the way, les Amis are hopefully going to pay more attention to the story and nitpick less and the story's going to pick up pace from here. 
> 
> About the baker- guess who. He'll have a part to play later on.


	3. In which there is triumph and despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A daring robbery takes place, and Jean asks a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this up :( To apologise, I'm giving you two chapters tonight! Also, as far as Jehan's name is concerned- it's not a typo, it's _relevant to the plot_. Well, not really, but it does serve a purpose. Enjoy!

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and Jean was bored out of his mind. 

He loved his tower. Really. But sometimes, he wished that his mother wasn't quite so paranoid about him leaving. He'd painted the last bare piece of wall months ago, and his books lay abandoned on the floor- once you'd read them as many times as him they seemed to loose all appeal. He contemplated writing another poem, but that would only make mother angry. Sighing, he gave a last lingering look at the window before beginning the arduous task if finding every knot and tangle in his seventy feet of hair. A small haiku began to form in his head.

Oh god I'm so bored.  
My arm's about to drop off  
My hair is too long.

God, what he would give for a little excitement, a little adventure now and then. Hopefully, this year he could summon up the courage to ask his mother about the lights in the sky. Maybe.

-

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, the city was just beginning to come to life and a group of young man were sliding around on the roof of the castle. Patron-Minette (which is what they had settled on after a night of far too much alcohol) moved like shadows, slinking across the tiles and keeping out of the sight of watchful guards. Behind them trailed another figure, slower since he stopped every couple of steps to check out the scenery. 

Montparnasse found the place he was looking for, and set Claquesous and Brujon to work. They began quietly prying bits of the roof away, making a hole that gradually grew larger and larger. Meanwhile, their fifth member had wandered away from the group and was peering over the parapet, trying to get a good view of some of the rooms. 

"I'll bet they don't even use half of these," he muttered under his breath. "Too many rooms. No, not for me thank you, I'd rather have something I wouldn't get lost in every time I needed to take a-"

Somebody cleared their throat behind him. Courfeyrac squealed and spun around, arms windmilling wildly to keep his balance. Babet looked far from impressed. 

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Just talking to myself! You know, crazy Courfeyrac who can't keep his mouth shut. Ah..ha...Please don't hurt me."

Babet gave him a nasty smirk. "Keep up your end of the bargain, and we won't have to. Get over there you fucking moron." Gripping Courfeyrac's arm, he shoved the younger man over to where Montparnasse was waiting with a large piece of rope. As the leader tied it around him, he went over the plan one more time.

"You get in, you get out. No funny business or you're fucking dead. No double crossing us, or you're fucking dead. Get it?"

Courfeyrac nodded frantically, and found himself pushed through the hole in the roof. Far below him, he could see the guards standing at attention, and right below him was his prize. Giving the others a thumbs up, they slowly began to lower him down towards the floor. 

As he approached the level of the guards, Courfeyrac concentrated on making as little noise as possible. Slipping the crown into his satchel, he was about to give the signal to pull him back up, when the guard directly in front of him sneezed. With a wide grin, Courfeyrac whipped a handkerchief out of his pocket and yanking the rope, handed it to the guard. The other man muttered his thanks, and went back to staring straight ahead. Suddenly with a start, he whirled back around, seeing only the empty pedestal where the crown had once been, and fading laughter coming through the hole in the roof.

The alarm was raised, and the guards were called out and, in the ensuing chaos and panic nobody noticed the five figures slipping out of the city gate and into the forest. 

-

Jean stood in front of the mirror, frowning at the reflection. "Alright. You can do this. Just ask! The worst she can do is say no..."

His pep talk was interrupted by a voice floating through the window. "Flower, I'm home! Let down your hair!"

Dashing to the window, Jean gathered as much hair as he could before flinging it down to the ground. The sharp yank was his signal, and he began the arduous task of hauling his mother up the side of the tower. Jean could feel the sweat starting to form as he pulled and heaved. Why they couldn't just get a ladder was beyond him, but he grinned and bore the strain. She was his mother and he loved her, no matter how crazy she was sometimes. He knew she'd given a lot up to keep his hair safe, and for that he was forever grateful. 

As she stepped through the window, Jean gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts, and steady his nerves. Turning to the older woman, he gave her his brightest smile. "Welcome home mother!"

She looked a little taken aback at the intensity. "Ah... Thank you flower."

"Is there anything I can get you? Tea? Sit down mother! Have a rest!" Jean hustled the confused woman into a chair before bolting towards the kitchen. Rattling the cupboards, he took a deep breath. 'Calm down. Don't be crazy or she'll definitely say no.'

"Here you go mother!" He brought the mug back into the room and carefully handed it over, making sure not to spill anything. "Ok, so I've got something really important to ask you. As you know, it's-"

His mother raised her hand. Jean shut up. "Mummy's feeling a little run down darling. Will you sing for me?" 

"Oh... Of course mother." 

Jean quietly passed her a brush, and settled down on the floor with his back to her. Feeling the tug of the brush, he heaved a sigh before beginning to sing.

_Flower gleam and glow_  
Let your power shine  
Make the clock reverse  
Bring back what once was mine 

At the words, his hair began to glow, softly at first but then brighter and brighter. Behind him, the wrinkles in his mothers face smoothed themselves out and the grey in her hair retreated back into her temples. By the time the glow faded from the room, the woman in the chair looked a good fifteen years younger than she had when she stepped through the window. When he was sure the magic had worked, Jean bounced to his feet, and spun around. 

"So, mother, I was trying to tell you before, but you weren't really listening, so I'm just going to come out and ask. Since its my birthday next week, I was hoping you'd... youdtakemetogoseethefloatinglights?" His last rushed words were tangled together, and he watched as his mother unpicked them, and froze.

"The floating lights?" Her tone was guarded, and Jean ploughed on. 

"Yes! I watch them every year- from my window of course. At first I thought they were just, I don't know, stars or something. But stars don't behave like that, and these lights only ever appear on my birthday. I've wanted to ask you about this for quite a few years now, but I finally think I'm ready. So please mother, I'm begging you! Please let me go and see them!" Jean was the first to admit that he wasn't going to let his dignity get in the way of something he wanted. 

His mother looked at him with hooded eyes, the tense silence stretching between them. Suddenly, she laughed, and pinched his cheek. "Oh you're joking! I was so worried for a moment there! Really darling, you need to work on your delivery."

Jean pulled away, rubbing his cheek. "No mother- I'm completely serious! I want to go and see the floating lights!"

Immediately his mother's teasing attitude dropped. "Oh for goodness sake Jean! You're acting like a child. Throwing a tantrum isn't going to change my mind. No."

"But mother-"

"No means no Jean! You want to go outside? After everything I've told you about the people out there? They're bad people Jean, thugs that would kill you as soon as look at you. You know why we stay here!"

Jean stared at his feet, twisting a piece of hair in his hands. "To keep me and my hair safe. But mother, surely not everybody is like that! There must be good people out there as well! People that would understand-"

His mother laughed, a high ugly sound. "You foolish child! People are weak, ugly, selfish creatures! Once they know what you can do, do you think they'll leave you alone? That you would be safe?"

"I think-"

His mother scoffed and carried on. "You wouldn't least a minute out there, you'd stick out like a sore thumb! Never mind your hair- you look scruffy enough as it is. These woods are crawling with thugs and villains. And that's not even counting the wild animals! They'd rip your throat out and what would I do then? You'd leave me alone here?" 

Jean whimpered. "Never mother! But these lights-" 

His mothers hand shot out as she smacked him across the face. Pain exploded across Jean's face, and he stared at her with wounded eyes. His mother exhaled sharply through her nose.

"And now you're making me out to be the bad guy here. Jean, I'm doing this because I love you. Now, I don't want to hear another word about this."

Jean nodded, eyes downcast before he fled back to his room. Pressing his face into his pillow, he wondered why he ever thought that she might have said yes.


	4. In which Courfeyrac does far more physical work than he is comfortable with

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lead-up to a fateful meeting

Courfeyrac felt like he was flying, feet barely touching the path underneath him. The trees flashed past, and he felt the comfortable weight of the crown in his satchel bumping against his hip. 

Up ahead, he saw Montparnasse pause at a fork in the road, and skidded to a halt behind him.

"Where to now then? Because right now I'd like to be as far away from the city as possible, and-" His voice trailed off as he caught sight of a wanted poster pinned to the tree. He pushed forward past a smirking Montparnasse, and snatched the piece of paper, studying it in horror. 

"Oh no no no! Look at this, this is terrible!" 

Babet laughed behind him. "What's wrong? Afraid somebody's going to turn you in?" 

Courfeyrac shook his head and held out the picture for them all to see. "Insulted more like- This doesn't look anything like me! My eyes aren't that far apart." Montparnasse studied the paper over his shoulder. 

"I dunno. The nose looks a little off, but that's definitely your ugly mug." 

Courfeyrac frowned and opened his mouth to make a no doubt witty comeback, but before he could speak Claquesous cut in. "Do you hear that?" Courfeyrac strained his ears, only to hear the distant thunder of hooves.

Montparnasse swore. "Shit! I thought we'd have more time. Alright- Babet, Claquesous, you go that way. Take him," he waved in Courfeyrac's direction, "And don't let that bag out of your sight."

Courfeyrac barely had time to protest before the two older men were pushing him down one of the paths. Behind, he could hear Montparnasse and Brujon making as much noise as they could to draw the palace guards in the opposite direction. The forest was quiet around them as they ran, or at least it was up until Babet started swearing when he saw the dead end in front of them. 

Claquesous tried to reach upwards, but it was too high for even him. Courfeyrac glanced backward worriedly, expecting to see the guards cantering towards them any second. 

"Hey guys! Wouldn't it be easier to push me up there so I can pull you up? You know- I don't fancy getting caught, so..." Claquesous and Babet sneered at him, so Courfeyrac continued. "I mean, I know it's not up to me but I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when Montparnasse finds out the reason we're late to the meeting point is because you two were arguing."

Claquesous rolled his eyes but Babet looked nervous. "I dunno... I think the runt may be right." Claquesous snarled at his colleague, but seeing as he was outvoted Courfeyrac didn't really care about what Claquesous thought. Fuck that guy.

"Alright," Claquesous begrudgingly agreed. "But the crown stays down here with us."

Courfeyrac gasped and clutched his chest in mock pain. "Claquesous, my old friend, you wound me!" 

Eventually, with Claquesous muttering under his breath about how such a small guy could weigh so much, Courfeyrac was hoisted up on the other two men's shoulders and managed to scramble over the edge. Turning, he looked down at his two impatient colleagues. 

"Look, you'll have to toss the bag up! It's got rope inside that I can use to pull you up."

Babet rolled his eyes. "Like we're going to let you double cross us. If you think we'll believe that bullshit then you've got to think we're dumber than-"

But Courfeyrac never got to hear what Babet compared himself to, because at that moment, the low murmur of voices drifted towards him. Looking up, he could see the glint of sun off armour as a group of people made their way towards the three thieves. 

"Oh shit, there's guards coming this way! Quick! Throw me up the rope!"

Claquesous hurled the bag up towards Courfeyrac. "For fucks sake get a move on then! Get us out of here!"

Courfeyrac smiled his most winsome and dashing smile. "You know what? How about I don't. Farewell my friends- I shall think of you fondly!"

And with that, he disappeared into the trees, the howls of rage echoing in his ears. Laughing, he ploughed through the foliage, eventually reaching the path. What a load of idiots! Now all he had to do was get out of the forest and he'd be free as a bird.

Unfortunately, the gods did not see fit to smile down on his that day, because his gleeful thoughts were interrupted by the thud of an arrow that narrowly missed his ear. Skidding to a halt, he whirled round locking eyes with a pair of guards. One held a crossbow, obviously the person who'd just tried to give Courfeyrac the closest shave of his life. His armour shone nearly as brightly as his hair, and narrowed blue eyes were locked onto Courfeyrac as he notched another arrow. 

"Halt thief! We've already apprehended your cohorts, so there's no use trying to run!"

Well, nothing ventured nothing gained was always Courfeyrac's motto, so he ignored the guard completely and dove back into the trees where blondie's arrows wouldn't be much use. 

"Quickly- after him Enjolras!"

The blonde guard leapt after him, navigating his way through the trees and over treacherous roots with an ease that made Courfeyrac burn with envy. Courfeyrac of course, managed to stumble over every raised thing on the forest floor (and maybe a small furry animal or two but he wasn't going to think about that. A thief should be graceful dammit). Up ahead, he saw the trees come to an abrupt stop. Skidding to a halt, he saw why.

Below him was a steep hill. It was covered in grass and rocks, and there was no way he was going down there. Nope. Not at all.

Behind him, the guard hurled himself at the prone figure, and both of the howled in alarm as the world dropped out from beneath them, only to then give way to unrelentless spinning. Courfeyrac tried to roll away from the guard, but he hung on like a limpet, yanking at the strap of the bag across Courfeyrac's chest. Panicking, Courfeyrac tried to slap his hands away but the spinning wasn't doing any wonders for his hand-eye coordination. As a consequence, he ended up hitting the man square in the face, which evidently surprised him so much that his grip went slack and he rolled off, straight into a rock. 

As the guard groaned, Courfeyrac staggered to his feet, and wobbled off waiting for his vision to right itself. Of course, the bastard behind him was recovering as well, and Courfeyrac whined as he desperately looked around for a hiding place. 

Spying a curtain of vines, he reasoned that it was better than nothing, so he slipped behind the vines and into the little crevice there. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he watched as the guard slowly made his way into view. His crossbow had been lost back on the hill, but he had his sword drawn, and Courfeyrac tried to make himself smaller. 'Oh please don't see me, oh please don't see me.'

Blondie looked around suspiciously, and came closer to the vines. Courfeyrac's eyes widened and as the other mans hand reached out he kissed goodbye to all his hopes and dreams. Suddenly, the guards head whipped round, as he heard a noise somewhere else.

Courfeyrac breathed a sigh of relief as the other man took off to find whatever poor little animal had caught his attention. Glancing round, he realised that he hadn't really thought this through that well. Looks like getting out of the forest while it was crawling with guards would be impossible. Montparnasse and his fucking plans. Leaning back against the rock, he got the fright of his life as the seemingly solid surface gave way beneath him, leaving him to tumble backwards into paradise. 

A quiet clearing met his eyes, filled with trees and a small stream. A flock of birds that had been disturbed by his unexpected entrance flew across the sky, and Courfeyrac watched them for a while before his eyes landed on what seemed like his salvation. A stone tower stood in the middle of the clearing, one of the tallest things he'd ever seen. It had no doors and the only entrance seemed to be the sole window, right at the top.

With a whoop, Courfeyrac took off towards the building, thoughts of a safe hiding place filling his head. The long climb upwards seemed like a walk in the park after meeting Enjolras, and he practically flew up the stone facade. Reaching the window, he pulled himself over the ledge and rolled inside trying to catch his breath as he rummaged around for his prize. Finding he hadn't dropped it, thank god, he sighed happily, and gently pulled the crown out of the satchel. Lifting it up to the window, he admired the way the light reflected off the stones, and the gleam of the gold. 

And then there was an explosion of pain along the side of his head and he heroically flopped to the floor, knocked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is only being put up now.


End file.
